Reputations
by She Walks With Grace
Summary: He couldn't understand what it was to lose something you loved with all your being; all he knew was gaining the approval of his twisted, prejudiced parents, and she pitied him.
1. Chapter 1

**REPUTATIONS**

_by MODA_

**_Chapter One_**

She had been watching the fireplace expectantly, a piece of parchment covered in loopy green writing clutched in her hand. The clock chimed eleven, but the grate remained lifeless. Concern furrowed her brow for a moment, before she reminded herself that it was perfectly acceptable for someone not to come precisely at the moment they had said they would.

However, just seconds later, there came a knock from the front door.

"I'll get it!" She called to her parents as she heard the wheels of her father's desk chair rumble across the floor of his office in the room above. She flipped the catch on the front door, and it swung open.

"Professor McGonagall! I thought you'd come by floo."

"I decided your parents are probably not very positively inclined towards magic right now, after the events of the past few years. It seemed more courteous to arrive in a manner they would be more familiar and comfortable with."

Hermione was taken aback.

"That was...very considerate of you. Thanks." In all honesty, the only magic Hermione had ever done around her parents were the memory charms she had performed on the at the beginning of the previous summer, but that alone had considerably diminished their trust in witchcraft. Hermione did everything at home the muggle way, for that reason and also because she did not think her father would appreciate the effect magic would have on their electrical appliances.

"Please, come in." Hermione led the headmistress into the sitting room. McGonagall took a seat opposite her, clasping her hands in her lap.

"It is not normal procedure for me to visit the head students before the start of the new school year, but as you can understand, the situation is far from normal. A lot of changes are being made to Hogwarts, and I must inform you of the new structures being enforced to improve the wellbeing of our students."

Hermione glanced down at her lap, fiddling with a loose thread on her skirt.

"So, onto the changes. Firstly, a new common room has been created to help encourage house unity. It will be a place for members of all houses to mix comfortably with one another; this was not previously possible within the castle, as the houses are separated at mealtimes, students must be silent in the library and cold weather restricts the amount of time one can spend mingling with those of other houses out in the grounds. This common room will be accessible through a main entrance situated near the great hall and through a series of passages that will lead to and from each house's common room."

Hermione nodded. It was an idea she had considered herself in previous years, when she had noticed the lack of integration between the houses.

"Secondly," McGonagall continued, "There will be a new set of competitions introduced, involving teams made up of members of all four houses, but I will give you more information on those once the term has begun. Thirdly and finally, and possibly most relevantly to you, Miss Granger, is that, unlike in all previous years at Hogwarts, you shall not be sleeping in your normal dormitory."

Hermione looked up.

"Instead, you shall be staying in a tower with the head boy-"

"Ah yes, you didn't mention who the head boy would be in the letter."

"I will get to that in due course. Anyway, this tower will contain your two dormitories as well as a sitting room area that will be equipped for both relaxation and study, much like your common rooms back in your house areas.

"Onto the case of the head boy. I must please ask you to allow me to finish what I have to say before you comment on the decision I have made."

"Of course, Professor."

"The head boy I have chosen for this year is Draco Malfoy."

"Professor!" Hermione blurted, unable to prevent an objection slipping from her lips. The glare McGonagall shot her stopped the words "You can't be serious?" before they, too, escaped.

"I am aware that you and Mister Malfoy do not exactly..." she paused to consider her next words, "see eye-to-eye on most things," Hermione scoffed, "and that is exactly why I have decided to make you both head boy and girl."

"Professor, he's a Death Eater!" She knew she shouldn't have said it, but Malfoy, head boy? The idea was positively ludicrous.

"Miss Granger! I am perfectly sure you are aware of the trials that have been going on since the end of the war and that Mister Malfoy was excused of his charges as the situation was one that was not under his control. I sincerely hope you keep this in mind over the next year as you will spend the _entire _school year in his presence, performing your duties as head girl with him, and living in the same quarters as him. You shall_ not _show intolerance towards him in any way, shape or form when you are out of your head tower, and when inside it, it would do you best to act civilly towards him. I shall not monitor your behaviour in your private quarters, but I can assure you that if I hear any word of your disagreements, the matter shall not be taken lightly. You are to be leading this school into a new era of inter-house relationships and if the head boy and girl cannot even act politely towards one another, that will not be an encouraging start."

Hermione sat, feeling as though fury were pouring off her in hot, angry waves. She knew her ongoing argument with Malfoy was not worth giving up her position as head girl over, but it just seemed so _unfair_. It was her final year at Hogwarts, and after the past seven years, all she wanted was a relaxed, uncomplicated one where she could keep her head down and not have to focus on anything but her NEWTs and her head girl duties. Now it looked as though that wasn't going to happen.

"I understand, Professor. I will do my best to behave as amicably as I can towards Malfoy, for the sake of the school."

"And that is all I ask of you."

* * *

><p>Hermione leant her head against the window again, looking out at the fields and pastures they were trundling through, the muggle villages completely and blissfully unaware of the scarlet steam train bisecting the land as it wound its way northwards. Her teeth rattled in her head as the vibrations from the window coursed through her. It was doing nothing to help her throbbing headache but it seemed to be shaking all conscious thoughts from her, and that was a good enough reason to keep her forehead pressed against the cool glass.<p>

The compartment was filled with a silence that had started off feeling like a loaded gun, ready to go off at any moment if one of them were to say a single word of the cache of insults that had found their way onto the tips of their tongues since entering. When Hermione had first arrived, Malfoy had looked up, catching her gaze. She had stood in the doorway for at least thirty seconds, a challenge in her eyes that she could see reflected straight back at her in his. Neither of them had uttered a word, though. Eventually, she stepped inside and tossed her bag down on the seat opposite him. She had released Crookshanks from his basket, who then proceeded also to stare at Malfoy for a few seconds, before deciding he wasn't worth it, padding around in circles on the seat, curling up, and promptly falling asleep. Hermione was glad he hadn't put up a fuss, being in a small space with a stranger.

The next few hours had been tense, but neither of them spoke a word to each other, not even when they were called to attend the prefects' meeting and patrol the train.

Now they were just reaching the highlands Scotland, and the sun was low in the sky. They had spent seven hours together and had not said a single thing. She presumed Malfoy had had the same talk with McGonagall as she, and that similar issues had come up. _Well, if he continues to act this way, maybe this year will be easier than I predicted, _she thought, though not allowing herself to get her hopes up.

* * *

><p>Hermione had been right in assuming that McGonagall had spoken with him. On August 16th, the day after the headmistress had visited Hermione, she had come marching down the long driveway between the grand, wrought iron gates and the double doors of Malfoy Manor's main entrance, the tip of her forest green witches' hat bent.<p>

Draco Malfoy had stood in the window of the front reception room, his hands clasped behind his back, watching her approach.

When she reached the entrance, she tugged on the bell pull, and the resounding gong could be heard throughout the manor. In the hall, Malfoy could hear the high pitched squeaks of the house elf who had gone to open the door. A moment later there was a _click_, as McGonagall was shown into the reception room. He turned.

"Professor McGonagall," he greeted her with a brief nod of his head.

"Mister Malfoy."

"Please, sit." He gestured to a pair of armchairs who ornate, spindly legs did not look as though they were crafted for the purpose of taking one's weight. However, McGonagall sat.

"I presume you already know why I am here?"

Draco nodded.

"Well then, as I cannot stay long, I addressed the majority of your duties as head boy in the letter I sent to you at the end of July. However, there are a few things I would like to discuss in person, namely, the matter of this year's head girl," she paused, "I have appointed Miss Granger of Gryffindor house to work alongside you this year."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed a fraction, and his lips thinned, but he otherwise made no outward reaction to her revelation.

"I understand that you and Miss Granger are not on good terms, but this year is primarily about restoring the relationships between the four houses, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin, hence why I ave chosen you two as heads, and why, this year, you shall be sharing a tower with Miss Granger."

Draco raised a curved, golden eyebrow, but continued to remain silent.

"What happens in the way of hostility between Miss Granger and yourself in the way of hostility within your tower is none of my concern, but in the halls, you will put aside your prejudices and behave civilly towards her, or you will be out of your spot as head-boy before you can say 'Muggle-born'," she finished coolly.

"I understand, Professor."

"Very well, I must depart, now, I'm afraid, but I will see you on the first of September, Mister Malfoy." And with that, she showed herself to the door, and left.

As he rose again to once more stand at the window, he considered the warning he had been given. Of course, he had expected the Mudblood princess to be made head-girl, but he wasn't going to allow her to ruin his chances to scrape back his family's battered reputation. Being head-boy gave him the chance to show the wizarding world that he still had respectability, and he planned to do just that. Hermione bloody Granger or not.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry this chapter wasn't very interesting, it's pretty much all scene setting for the rest of the story, and a glimpse into the differences in character and lifestyle of Draco and Hermione. Until next time, MODA. _


	2. Chapter 2

**REPUTATIONS  
><strong>by MODA

**Chapter Two**

Hermione glanced around the Great Hall. On the Gryffindor table alone there were many she knew well who had come back this year: Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all sat around her, and yet she had never felt so isolated at Hogwarts. Throughout the hall, people were chatting with their friends, laughing about things that had happened over the holidays. Yet there was something else there, something that was making her feel so cut off from everyone else, a feeling that she suspected most were sharing, though they appeared to be covering it up better. It wound through the chamber, weaving its way through tables and benches, wrapping itself around each student in the room, creating barriers of emotions that were too much for the individual to handle. Grief, shock, hurt, and inability to cope with the events of the past year, to process them, understand why the bubble of their own private lives had been shattered, and their world torn apart. They were all just _kids._ They should never have had the illusion of the world that all children have taken away from them the way it was, the illusion that it's a place of friends, and family, and enjoyment, with the hardest thing they have to suffer through being their school exams.

Hermione had lost that a long time ago. She thought maybe it had been when she had almost been killed by a rogue mountain troll, but even then, it all felt like a game, a challenge. In reality, she thought, she had only realised the severity of the situation they were in when Harry appeared on the grass before the maze at the end of their fourth year, the Triwizard cup in one hand, and Cedric Diggory's corpse in the other.

The others were chatting lightly among themselves, small talk about the past weeks. Hermione knew Ginny wouldn't have much to say. The Burrow had been deathly quiet over the recent months. No explosions were to be heard from George's old room, clattering of utensils from the kitchen, or yells from the yard. Hermione couldn't stand it there. Instead, she had spent her summer either with her parents or at Grimmauld Place, where Harry had moved. She used refurbishing the house as a way of drowning out the cries of the dying, the sobs of the grief-stricken, but she could not block out the flashes of green and red light that burst behind her eyelids when she blinked.

Nor could she keep away the attacks. They were infrequent, yet unpredictable. Sometimes they would come from nothing, and other times they would be triggered by a sight, a sound, occasionally a smell. Anything that reminded her strongly of _that place. _The place where Bellatrix had raised her wand against her, and there was nothing she could do to prevent the pain that suddenly coursed through her body, her mind, setting every nerve ending alight with flames like Fiendfyre. The attacks felt like an echo of the Cruciatus curse, but unlike enduring the curse, where you could think of nothing but the white hot pain tearing through you, every single bad memory from the past years stormed her brain, so that when it was over, thirty seconds or ten minutes later, she was left and aching, sobbing wreck, and all she could do when they happened was hope she would be alone when they occurred.

Any time they happened since May, she had been alone, but often had to hold back the screams that formed in her throat, threatening to alert her nearby friends or family of the lasting trauma of the curse. None of them needed that knowledge. They believed it over, Voldemort was dead, and all they had to contend with was the grief that had settled in their hearts after the deaths of their friends. This was her own demon to face.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy looked around the Hall. Something felt different this year. He wasn't surprised. How could it possibly stay the same, after everything that had happened? His eyes landed on Granger. She looked completely out of it, staring into space with a slight frown on her face. Blaise was sat on the bench beside him, and Astoria and Daphne Greengrass were nearby. Pansy was further down the table with Theodore Nott. Both were prefects, and therefore required to sit away for the head-boy so they could monitor a different part of the table. No one seemed overly rowdy, tonight, though. Chatter filled with a somewhat subdued air echoed around the stone chamber.<p>

Returning to Hogwarts this year felt like returning home to find someone less than pleasant had moved into your bedroom. Very much like Malfoy Manor had felt when Voldemort had taken up residence there. Except that was a million times worse in some ways, and a million times better in others. Hogwarts was somehow worse because it had never been tainted by his evil the same way his house had always been.

His left wrist twinged, his Mark itching. It had faded slightly over the past months, but only minimally. It would never go away, that he could be sure of. Forever would he be reminded of his cowardice, and the horrific events that ensued as a result.

At first, after the awful day at the beginning of May, four months previously, almost to the day, he had wanted the scar forever, as a constant reminder of his wrongdoings, but with time he realised that not only would he have to live with it, he would have to live with people seeing him as being a _mark_, rather than an actual person, for the rest of his life.

He may have escaped the battle alive, but the life he had escaped with was cursed with the remnants of his gutless mistakes.

* * *

><p>The feast had finished, Draco and Hermione had helped direct the new first years to their common rooms, and both now stood at the foot of the marble staircase, where they had been instructed to meet the Headmistress, so that she could show them to their new tower.<p>

They stood apart, not looking at one another, trying their best to ignore each other's existence. Hermione kept her eyes trained on a painting near by as it chatted with its neighbours. Finally, McGonagall appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger, if you'll follow me please," she said curtly. Still not looking at one another, they followed. She led them to the third floor and down the charms corridor. Near the end was a tapestry that looked similar to the one covering the door to the prefects' bathroom. Their Professor pushed aside the tapestry to reveal a dark wooden door with a glass knob set into it. She then turned to them.

"Unlike your common rooms, which both use passwords, all you need to is touch your hand or wand to the door handle for the door to open. It does this by recognising your magical 'fingerprint', you might say. We need to set it up to accept you, though, so once I say the incantation, please place your wand hand on the handle one at a time. We'll then repeat this with your wands."

McGonagall tapped the knob with her wand and muttered something under her breath. Hermione reached out for the handle, only to find Malfoy's hand in the way. She jerked hers away hastily, glanced sideways at him. He shot her a glare. As he touched the glass, it glowed faintly blue. Only once he had removed his hand did she try to place hers on the door again. It glowed blue again. They repeated this with their wands. McGonagall stepped away.

"Well then, now that's done, I will leave you to explore your new quarters in private."

"Thank you, Professor."

* * *

><p>Hermione had certainly not been expecting what she saw within the heads' tower. A large, red leather couch sat in the middle of the room, facing the fireplace set into the wall to the right of the entrance, a matching armchair beside it. Red cushions embroidered with silver thread sat on both. A large mahogany desk was pushed against the back of the sofa, a chair at either end. A coffee table, similarly made of mahogany, had been placed between the fireplace and sofa.<p>

To the left, a door led into a wonderful bathroom, three walls of which were made of limestone, and the fourth was a floor to ceiling mirror. The bath was large and claw footed, and surrounded by a silvery curtain that reminded Hermione of a waterfall.

In the main room, two staircases with wrought iron banisters led up to doors set into the left and right corners of the back wall. The left door was painted with a beautiful green tree, whose leaves seemed iridescent, flickering with flecks of silver. The door on the right was very similar, but was of gorgeous autumnal golds and reds.

Between the two staircases was a large, panelled set of french doors that led out onto a small balcony that looked over the driveway of the school, the lake glittering in the moonlight on the right, towering mountains on the left. It was a magnificent view.

She didn't hear him come up behind her as she stared out across the grounds, one hand rested on the window pane. He cleared his throat, as if she was wasting his time and he had things to get on with. She started and turned.

"Yes, Malfoy?" she sighed tiredly.

His gaze was that of a predator choosing to spare its pray for a few minutes longer. It was a look that held both cruelty and power, and it took much willpower for Hermione not to look away.

"I think we ought to get a few things straight, _Granger,_" her name came out a hiss, and he stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him as he towered over her. "We may have to spend the next year in here together, but I can promise you I am putting up with it for no other reason than that my family needs me to do this, to regain the honour the Dark Lord snatched from us. As far as I am concerned, you are still the dirty little mudblood you have _always_ been, Gryffindor Princess or not. I don't give a damn if you're the supposed heroine of the wizarding world or not. You shall always remain _tainted_, spoiled goods, if you will, to me. You shall not speak to me unless spoken to first, and when I am in here, you can either scurry off to your friends in the Gryffindork common room or shut yourself away in your room, I don't care. I don't want to see you more than I already have to, yes? Then maybe this year will be some vague resemblance of _tolerable."_

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, considering her response. When she found it, it came out dangerously quiet, poison seeping through every word.

"Malfoy, you are sorely wrong if you ever believed I would do what you tell me to for a single moment. Contrary to this belief you seem to have, I have not, or have ever had, a care in the world about your opinion of me. Mudblood? That's the best you can come up with? That's a bit too second year, do you not think? And if you think your family's lost honour was because of the Dark Lord's failing to defeat Harry, you are stupider than even I ever considered you to be. Your family lost all sense of respectability _years_ ago, when your father signed away all your lives by joining the Death Eaters, and then you added insult to injury by not being able to stand up for yourself enough to turn down the offer to join when it was your turn! Don't even get me _started_ on your failing to kill Dumbledore," she finished in a whisper, glaring at him with all the hate she could muster.

"You filthy-"

"Mudblood? Save it, Ferret, I'm going to bed."

She shoved past him with more force than she thought she could muster, causing him to stagger slightly. She jogged up the steps to the red door, and closed it behind her. Leaning against the cold wood, she realised her heart was pounding in her chest.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Whahey! New chapter! I hope y'all enjoyed that. Right, now I need to explain something to you. Something you won't want to hear. _

_Basically, I know I won't be able to update as often as you want me to. Every two or three weeks, probably. Wait wait WAIT. Don't leave. Let me explain. This is because I'm in a fairly big year for exams and school work, so over the course of the next year, every week I'll be:_

_1) Doing fourteen hours of homework (approximately)  
>2) Doing coursework like music and art (both of which take AGES)<br>__3) Writing Reputations  
><em>_4) Writing From Here Onwards  
>5) Writing an adaptation of Pride and Prejudice for theatre<br>6) Working towards trumpet grade 7  
>7) Learning the guitar<br>8) Beta-ing  
>9) Working on both another FanFiction and an original piece of work<em>

_Do you understand how much stuff I try and do now? Good. But, all that said, when I get into the flow of writing, I get REALLY into it, which means more updates! I also adore feedback from you lot, and it really encourages me to be speedier about updating. Just saying, you know? Heh. Anyway, thanks for understanding guys. If you're reading From Here Onwards, I hope to be updating it within the next week or so._


	3. Chapter 3

**REPUTATIONS  
><strong>_by MODA _

**Chapter 3**

She didn't see Malfoy when she came downstairs the next morning to shower, before slipping quietly out of the tower. She was partially glad of this, but part of her had wanted the opportunity to throw a little self satisfied smirk in his direction to remind him of her little victory the night before.

Hermione made her way through the quiet hallways to the new unity common room, which she had not had the opportunity to see the last night. There she was to meet Neville, Luna and Ginny so that they could go to breakfast together.

The new common room was huge. It had to be, she supposed, for the majority of Hogwarts' students the fit within it. It seemed to combine the expense of the furniture in Slytherin's common room with the comfort of Hufflepuff's and Gryffindor's, and the walls were lined with bookshelves.

Comfy-looking leather sofas and armchairs of all colours and styles littered the room, and there were many large desks that looked as though they would seat up to seven or eight people, their varnished surfaces gleaming in the light from the gas-lamps hung around the room. The banners of each house adorned the four walls, and beneath each banner was a door, through which the feet of four sets of spiralling staircases could be seen.

Neville, Luna and Ginny were sat on a brown couch beside the enormous fireplace, but the common room was otherwise deserted.

"Hermione!" called Ginny as she entered the room, "How was last night with Malfoy? Oh, and what's your new dorm like?"

"Erm," she began as she neared them, "Well, Malfoy and I had a spat last night, but that was nothing less than I expected. The dorm is lovely! The main room is completely white other than the furnishing which are red and silver. There's this beautiful little balcony that overlooks the front lawn, too. My room is much the same as the dormitories in Gryffindor tower, except there's only me."

"That sounds amazing! What did Malfoy say?"

"The usual. Some rubbish about his family's reputation and how, being the mudblood scum that I am, I should only speak to him when spoken to, etcetera, etcetera."

"Ignore him, Hermione," said Luna somewhat dreamily, "he has no reputation anymore, you played a huge role in defeating Lord Voldemort, and he only just avoided going to Azkaban. He can't touch you."

"Oh, I know. I gave him a piece of my mind on the matter, which shut him up. Breakfast, anyone?"

The other three nodded and they headed together to the Great Hall, discussing the Wizengamot trials that had been held over the summer.

* * *

><p>She was gone. <em>Thank Merlin.<em> He had lain in bed for fifteen minutes after waking, listening to her shuffle around downstairs. Draco could barely admit this to himself, let alone to himself, but he knew the thing stopping him from going downstairs while she was still there was that his pride wasn't ready to face her again. He rolled out from under the sheets, starting slightly as his feet hit the cold floor.

He went about getting himself sorted for the day; the familiar sequence he had followed since first year allowed him to organise his thought on how he would go about responding to Granger's win the night before. She was stronger than he had presumed she would be. He'd never had a great opportunity to see how she personally reacted to direct insulted, as Weasley and Potter had always gotten in the way. Now he had an idea of how she worked, he could play off that, stage his attacks better. He would have to step up his game a bit, and the idea pleased him. He liked a challenge. He would set his mind to studying her over the next few days, to see what irked her, test out a few insults to see what ended up striking a nerve best.

* * *

><p>Hermione felt it had been a good day, different, and odd, but good all the same. Slughorn was still potions master, and all the teachers from previous years were still teaching the same subjects. There were two teachers missing, though: Professors Snape and Burbage. Snape had been replaced as Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher by a man called Mr Kurt Rothley, a tall man, with dark hair ad very pale blue eyes, whom Hermione guessed was in his late thirties. She no longer took Defence Against The Dark Arts as a subject, so had not seen him teach first hand, but Ginny had said he was very intelligent, and reminded her somewhat of Remus. Charity Burbage had been replaced by Miss Glinda Pennifold. Muggle Studies had been made a compulsory subject this year, although Hermione had not yet had a lesson with her. Today she'd had Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration and History of Magic, which left her with a couple of hours between her last lesson and dinner to go to the library and get ahead of work. <em>And to avoid Malfoy for a little while longer<em>, the part of her that wasn't trying to deny that he'd got to her just a tiny bit last night muttered.

Conversation at dinner felt less forced than it had the night before, thankfully. Ginny had brought up what they'd all done over their summers, which Hermione was comfortable with, as it meant they could talk about the last year indirectly, instead of having to pretend it didn't happen. There was no way one could put that out of one's mind so simply. It didn't work that way.

"I mostly spent the holidays with my Gran. I visited my parents a fair bit, too. In some ways I'm glad they missed everything that happened this year," Neville was saying.

"That sounds nice. Mine was a little hectic, if I'm honest," said Hermione, picking at the food on her plate.

"What happened?"

"Well, I originally went back to the Burrow with Harry and Ron, but we only stayed a week or so, before moving into Grimmauld Place, which we fixed up and made nicer. I don't think I could have survived living there if it had remained being dank and like the headquarters of a pureblood cult frenzy, which I guess it kind of was. We spent about three weeks in Australia, getting my parents back, and then Harry and Ron started Auror training, so I spent a lot of time studying for this year."

"I could've guessed you'd end up spending your free time that way, Hermione. Normal people would've gone on a holiday or something. Merlin knows you deserve one."

"Oh, I did go to France for a week."

"And let me guess you took your textbook to the beach with you?"

Hermione glanced away from him, shamefaced. She noticed Malfoy get up from the Slytherin table and leave the Hall out of the corner of her eye, and remembered that at some point, she would have to return to her tower and face him, and sooner rather than later would probably be best. Sighing, she muttered her excuses to her friends and left.

* * *

><p>She found him sat on the sofa, his legs, crossed at the ankle, propped up on the coffee table, an open book in one hand. As she shut the door softly behind her, he glanced up. A smirk wound its way up his lips, and a glint appeared in his eye. Hermione steeled herself for the inevitable torrent of abuse she was about to receive, part of her mind thinking about how she felt like she had just fallen into one of those western movies she had watching with her father every Sunday afternoon as a child, cowboys standing in dusty roads, feet apart, half crouched, fingers twitching towards the holsters at their hips...<p>

He seemed to be waiting for something, as he remained silently grinning, if you could call it that; grinning seemed to imply an expression of happiness. The closest thing to happiness she could see in his eyes was delight, but it was anticipatory delight - cold and cruel. In fact, what would have looked like a slightly sarcastic smile to a passer-by seemed more like a feral baring of teeth to Hermione; the kind of look you would expect to see on the face of a wolf after a long chase.

And in all honesty? It terrified her.

Finally, she'd had enough.

"Problem, Ferret?" she spat in her best sneer, although it came out somewhat feebly.

"Not at all, Granger. Did you have a nice day?"

She raised an eyebrow in suspicion at his creepily amiable tone. "What's it to you?"

"Why Granger, doubting my motives?"

"Definitely."

"I'm just trying out this whole "house unity" thing, you know? McGonagall certainly stressed that it was of great importance."

"To hell you are, Malfoy. What's really going on? Trying to fix your reputation by befriending the Gryffindor mudblood, are we? It's going to take more than that to get your daddy out of court, I can promise you that."

Malfoy's composure failed, as a noise that sounded much like a snarl errupted from his lips.

"Hit a nerve did I? My apologies, I didn't realise purebloods had feelings. I thought all the inbreeding had rid your family of those a _long _time a go. I mean, just look at your Aunt Bellatrix. Sorry, late Aunt Bellatrix. My mistake."

That was it. Draco stood and launched himself over the back of the couch at an impossible speed, and before Hermione could even realise what had happened she felt her head strike the door behind her, clouding her vision with stars and _pain_. She groaned and her head lolled forwards for a moment, causing her to feel the wand that was pressed into her throat, and notice the hand that had shoved her backwards. She lifted her head, which now felt like lead, to look up at Malfoy, who was towering over her, his eyes looking like black storm clouds, anger roiling just beneath the surface.

"I would watch your fucking mouth, _mudblood, _if you know what's best for you. Accidents have their way of happening to those who don't mind their tongues around me. Just look what happened to my dear, _dear _cousin Nymphadora and her half breed husband, or that Weasley twin. They came to rather sticky ends, did they not? I wonder what's happened to the other twin, eh? Topped himself yet? I would've. Not because I'd lost my brother, no. I would be glad of that. No, I would've because I'd be doing the Wizarding world a favour, removing myself from society permanently. There seems to be far too many ginger blood traitors running around right now."

_Crack. _Hermione fist flew out, connecting with Malfoy's nose with more strength than she thought she had in her. His head snapped sideways and blood spurted from his nose like a horrific fountain, splattering the wall beside them. Unlike in their third year, though, she did not feel at all satisfied having thrown the punch. She lunged forwards, intending to hit him again, again, _again_, until the last foul, _evil_ breath left his body. She managed to get him once in the jaw before he caught her wrists and slammed her backwards again. His skin was paler than usual, and the blood running over his lips and chin stood out in stark contrast to his colourless eyes and hair.

"You _bitch_," he hissed in a tone that could not have sounded any more threatening if it had been shouting. "Did I "hit a nerve", in your words, hmm? Seems as much. Oh, you're not honestly going to _cry_, are you, Granger?"

She looked away, hot tears burning her eyes, trying to blink them away but to no avail. The harder she tried to stop them the more inclined they were to overflow, pouring down her cheeks in boiling rivers.

"Awww, the mudblood's _crying. _Bless. And Potter and Weasley aren't here to do anything about it. Where are they, Granger? Finally come to their senses and realised that all you are is a boorish, ugly, bookworm mudblood? I don't blame them."

"Shut up, _shut up! _Shut you foul fucking mouth, Malfoy! You don't know anything! Now get off me and leave me the fuck alone!"

She wrenched her wrists from his grasp and sprinted up the steps to her room, feeling the Malfoy's victorious gloating floating up the stairs after her.

One all.

* * *

><p><em>AN: See, I updated quickly! This chapter was fun. Well, the last bit was. Aced it out in an hour. Yes, aced. Other people write, I ace. Sorry for the swearing, I don't tend to use it unless it's necessary for effect. Big thanks to those who reviewed, all of your reviews were really lovely and encouraging and I had nice PM conversations with a couple of you. Thanks so much for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

**REPUTATIONS  
><strong>_By MODA _

The joy that resulted from the victory did not last very long. In fact, it lasted about as long as it took for Malfoy to remember that the Mudblood had most definitely broken his nose. And that it _hurt. _He dragged his hand across his upper lip and was entirely unsurprised to find it covered in a thick smear of blood. He wrenched open the door and marched quickly to the Hospital Wing, long strings of expletives spewing from his mouth as he tried to staunch the torrent of blood that continued to pour from his nose.

Suddenly, he stopped. He had managed to wind Granger up to the point that she hit him. He had watched her face contort with rage, and tears gather in her eyes. But what had caused her to flip out? What had he been saying?

Ah yes. He'd been mocking the death of the Weasley brother. He'd have to dig a little further into that situation, find out exactly what it was that broke her as it had just done.

For now, though, he needed to fix his nose.

* * *

><p>Hermione was curled up on her side in the middle of her bed, jaw clamped and arms wrapped around her knees, trying to quell the shakes and sobs that rattled through her.<p>

He was right. Harry and Ron _weren't _there. She thought she could handle this year without them, manage Malfoy just fine by herself. Apparently she was wrong. So, very, very wrong, and so very, very _weak_.

At this thought, another heaving round of sobs wracked through her, and she turned her head into her quilt, trying to stifle them against the bedding.

In time, the flow of tears began to ebb, until she was still once more, and rational thought that had previously been drowned out by emotion seeped back into her head.

She had spent the last year helping to bring down Voldemort. She'd seen friends, good people, _die. _She'd seen her parents look at her without a trace of recognition in their eyes, and then had to face their anger and distrust once the memory charm she'd had to place on them herself had been reversed. She'd seen one best friend turn his back on her, and the other brought to her, dead. If she'd come through all that, she could handle some spoilt bully speaking of things he knew nothing about. He couldn't understand what it was to lose something you loved with all your being. All he knew was gaining the approval of his twisted, prejudiced parents.

And she pitied him.

* * *

><p>She lay there for what seemed like years, contemplating how she should behave towards Malfoy now, until she heard the door to the common room open downstairs. Slowly, she pulled herself off her bed and to the sink in the corner of the room. Tiredly, she rubbed at her red eyes as she turned on the cold tap, before splashing the cool water over her face, removing any traces of tear stains.<p>

When they had disappeared down the drain, she reached for the little-used mascara Ginny had given her to use for Bill's wedding last year, swiping it over her lashes quickly.

Once satisfied that not evidence of her previous outburst was noticeable, she headed downstairs.

Draco was sat on the sofa once more, his expression halfway between thoughtfulness and a scowl. He started slightly at the sound of her bedroom door opening, and looked up as she descended the stairs, his smirk instantly plastered back over his face.

"My my, Granger, mascara? It'll take a lot more than that to impress me, or anyone, for that matter."

She said nothing, simply crossed the room to where her bag had been dropped by the door, and fished the novel she was currently reading from within it.

"Why so quiet? Has the lion lost its roar all of a sudden? What a shame that would be, on top of losing everything else."

She continued to completely blank him, choosing instead to curl up in the armchair by the fire and engross herself in her book.

All Draco could do was sit and frown.

* * *

><p>It had been three days. Three days and he'd failed to get a single word out of her.<p>

Not getting his own way was not a concept Draco was used to, and it aggravated him. Of course, he thought bitterly, his free will had been snatched from him the moment he was thrown in with the Death Eaters, becoming a slave to Voldemort's every whim.

He was close to giving up.

"Are you okay?" Blaise asked him, looking up from his breakfast, "You've been a little... tense, lately."

"I'm _fine_," Draco snapped, tossing the day's edition of _The Daily Prophet_ back onto the table. Blaise looked unconvinced.

"It's Granger," sighed Draco, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, "She getting in my head."

The goblet Teddy had been drinking from clattered to the floor and both Pansy and Draco suddenly found themselves covered in a light sheen of pumkin juice. Teddy wheezed and spluttered, Blaise whacking him hard on the back as he roared with laughter.

"_Granger's_ getting in your head?" Teddy eventually choked out, once he had recovered enough to be able to speak, "Wow, Drake, didn't take long. War ended and suddenly you're a Mudblood lover."

"Shut it, Nott, I didn't mean like that, and you know it. I've been trying to wind her up so she snaps again for three days straight and she does nothing. Never removes her nose from some damned book or another when she's in our common room. I'm half convinced she's casting silencing spells around herself to block me out."

"Wait, again? When did you first manage to crack her?" Pansy asked eagerly.

"A few days back. Drove her so mad she ended up hitting me."

"Were you okay?" Parkinson almost squealed.

"Obviously, Pans, now shut up and let him finish," Blaise interjected her crooning.

"Anyway, so yeah, she broke my nose, the bitch, but then burst into tears. I actually got her to swear at me."

"Granger can _swear_?"

"Indeed. Gryffindor's Princess has quite the foul mouth when she tries, it would seem."

* * *

><p>Hermione heard Blaise's laughing from across the hall, and guessed from the death glare Pansy Parkinson shot her a few seconds later that they were talking about her. Quickly finishing off the last dregs of her tea, she grabbed her bag and half jogged out of the hall, not wishing to be late fore Potions.<p>

She wound her way down through the castle, the corridors gradually getting narrower and colder. It wasn't long before Hermione became aware of the echoes of a second person making their way down to the dungeons. It sounded as if they were running, loud slaps of their shoes against the stone filling the passageway.

"Oi, Mudblood!"

She turned, allowing the exasperated sigh that escaped her be heard by her pursuer.

"What, Pansy?"

Parkinson stopped in front of her, twirling her wand between her fingers and peering at Hermione through two dark curtains of hair, in a manner that Hermione presumed was intended to seem threatening.

"Just wanted to warn you to stay away from Draco, Granger. It's bad enough that he's having to live with you, the poor thing, I can't imagine _what_ he's going through, but that you had the nerve to _touch _him, let alone hurt him! I promise you, Mudblood, you lay a _finger _on him again, and I'll make you regret the day you wrongly decided to turn up at this school."

"Drop it, Pansy, he had what was coming to him, and if he was stupid enough not to predict what would happen if he tried to wind me up that way, then I guess you two are well matched for intelligence, and I hope you're happy together, in your lstupid, close-minded little-world." Over Pansy's shoulder she saw Neville and Ginny appear, both looking somewhat concerned.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" Neville asked. Pansy jumped slightly in surprise, not having heard his approach.

"Oh, yes," she assured him, "Just having a friendly chat with Miss Parkinson here," turning back to Pansy she said, "Don't worry, I'm sure your ickle-Draco will stop trying to annoy me and give you the undivided attention you require soon enough. I mean, how long can he keep chasing around a pesky little Mudblood when he's got such a _gorgeous_ pureblood Slytherin to amuse him to his heart's, and other thing's, desire."

The door to the potions classroom a few metres down the corridor, and Professor Slughorn's jovial voice filled the passage. Ginny and Neville pushed past Pansy, joining Hermione as the entered the room, leaving Pansy fuming outside.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Bonjour, mes lecteurs belles! Casually embarrassing myself infront of any French readers I have, or people who can speak French better than I can (which is probably a lot of you). Anyway, sorry, this chapter's more of a filler that anything of great substance and drama and whatnot, though it did give me a chance to make fun of Pansy. Which I enjoy greatly. Anyway, until next time,  
>Lena Grace <em>


	5. Chapter 5

**REPUTATIONS  
><strong>by MODA

Malfoy was staring up at Professor McGonagall, his pointed chin resting on the tips of his steepled fingers, a slight crease between his brows. Hermione, too, was entirely focussed on the Headmistress as she stood behind the desk in her office.

"I have come up a few ways in which we can try and encourage fraternisation between the houses. Firstly, Quidditch competitions will be held between teams of mixed houses. The members of these teams will be selected through a drawing of lots after lessons next Thursday. There will be four teams, and the members of each shall be members of each of the four house's pre-existing teams, only switched around. I'm hoping this will force members of rival houses to learn how to work together as a team," she paused, "Well, either that or it will end with brawling. Perhaps changing teams will help Quidditch players to learn different techniques of playing, and improve the quality of Quidditch at this school overall..." A slight glint appeared in her eyes at this. "I am also considering the possibility of another Yule ball, like the both of you will have experienced in your fourth year here, during the Triwizard competition. The only catch will be that everyone attending must attend with a partner from another house. We'll meet to organise a ball committee in a few weeks time. Finally, there will be a new tutoring program, where all those wishing to be tutored will be tutored by someone of a different house. Does this all sound agreeable to you?"

Both Malfoy and Hermione nodded quickly.

"Good. You may both be excused. I am relieved to hear that you've both been getting a long, or at least I have heard nothing of your disagreeing."

"Everything is fine, Professor," Hermione reassured her, the lie slipping off her tongue with ease. With that, she and Malfoy stood. "Nice to see you, Professor Dumbledore," she nodded to the portrait behind McGonagall's desk. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Draco avert his eyes.

* * *

><p>Hermione shifted slightly where she sat on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, back against Neville's knees, the owner of which was slumped, asleep, in his seat on the sofa by the fire, a Herbology textbook still open in his lap. Ginny was talking quietly with Dean and Seamus, but otherwise the common room was empty.<p>

Hermione moved again, feeling her spine crack in several places from not having been moved in so long. Neville groaned slightly, and she turned to see his eyes flicker open slowly.

"What time is it?" he muttered sleepily.

Hermione checked her watch, "About half eleven. I really should go."

"Mmm, I should get to bed. Let's hope Malfoy's already asleep when you get back."

Neville stood and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet.

"Hmm, me too."

"I don't know how you can stand it; he's bad enough to me and I'm pureblood."

"He didn't just help defeat Voldemort, though, did he? We have so much more to us than blood status to define ourselves; he's just to narrow-minded to see more than that in anyone. Knowing that keeps me sane. See you in the morning, Neville."

"Night, 'Mione.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, Malfoy wasn't asleep. He was sat where she often found him on returning to their tower – on the sofa, staring into the fire, waiting. Whether for her or for something else, she was never sure. Once the door had clicked shut behind her, he spoke, but his eyes remained fixed on the fireplace.<p>

"You're back rather late, Granger. Off cavorting with men round school, are we? Didn't think it'd be your sort of thing, but I will admit to being wrong about such things before. The bookish ones often turn out to be the most... frivolous."

Hermione snorted. "You would know, wouldn't you, Malfoy? And why aren't you out much? Pansy turn you out?"

"I have no interest in her in that way. She's far too... loud."

"I didn't think you would care about such semantics, Malfoy. I'm surprised you actually have any preferences with your women, other than "willing", though maybe you don't even need that."

Finally, he turned.

"Is that what you think?"

"Do you care?"

He paused. "Not at all."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Hermione wasn't sure whether the conversation was over or not. Malfoy turned back to the fire, and she stepped across the room to the foot of the staircase that led to her room.

"Granger? Just be careful about this beau of yours; we wouldn't want Weaslebee finding out about it, now, would we?"

Hermione scoffed. "Night, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>She was by his side mere moments after his cauldron exploded.<p>

"Merlin, Neville, are you okay?"

It was a stupid question; there was a deep gash where a piece of shrapnel had caught his cheek, and scarlet burns were appearing over everywhere the greenish potion had hit, vivid against his shock-white skin.

"I, um," Neville said dazedly, staring at the remains of his cauldron.

Hermione delved into her pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed at the potion on his face. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing." She grabbed his wrist and began to pull him to the door when he remained motionless.

"Isn't this _sweet?" _A drawling voice came from across the dungeon. "Longbottom, of all boys? Really Granger, I didn't think you could get much worse than Weasley. Once again, you have me mistaken. I commend you." Neville finally looked away from the molten reckage to stare confusedly at Malfoy.

"What're you on about, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice, aware of everyone else in the room.

"The reason you've been coming back late most nights is because you've been sneaking off with Longbottom? This is _hilarious_."

Everyone had stopped working now, and were staring between Malfoy and Hermione as if they'd never seen the two argue before.

"And you've been keeping tabs on the whereabouts of a Mudblood? I'm sure your Slytherin chums find _that "_hilarious'."

Malfoy seemed to falter for a moment, restraining himself from glancing around the room to see his classmates' reactions.

"A little on the defensive side, there. I would take your boyfriend to the hospital quickly Granger, he looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel. Wouldn't want to add to the mess now, would we?"

Hermione glanced at Neville, and couldn't tell if the shade his face had gone was from embarrassment or anger. Judging by the tick in his jaw, she guessed the latter.

"Can it, Malfoy!" Neville snarled, his voice only wavering slightly. Malfoy laughed, looking around at his friends, expecting to see them laughing with him, only to find them standing around him looking wary. His expression of mirth turned sour.

"Longbottom's learned to try and defend him self? At last! About time you grew a pair."

"Urgh, just lay off, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, "You don't even know what you're talking about! You're just trying to stir things up again, and it's pathetic! Don't you get it? It's all over now! You _lost_. You and you naïve, prejudiced family _lost_. You have even less right to go swanning around the place like you own the world than you did before, and that's really saying something. Your Slytherin _buddies_ have at least taken their heads out of their own arses for long enough to realise that for their own good they should probably keep their mouths shut, but for some reason you haven't. I advise you do something about it." Silence fell in the dungeon. Hermione turned to Neville. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing."

Neville was silent all the way back up to the ground floor.

"Are you okay?" She eventually asked him, when his silence began to worry her. He stopped behind her.

"Hermione, you do realise what just happened, right?" He was giving her a weird look.

"Yeah, Malfoy was a prat, what's so new about that?"

"You two are the _heads_."

Hermione froze.

"Damn Draco Malfoy to the fieriest pits of hell!" she swore, "He had to go messing things up, didn't he? McGonagall is going to be _furious_." Neville just stood as she continued to insult Malfoy, pacing back and forth before him, their trip to the hospital wing forgotten, but his skin still blistered. She suddenly seemed to remember this.

"Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry! Come on. I'm going to kill Malfoy..." she muttered as she headed towards the marble staircase once more.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the wait! And sorry this chapter is so short! It's been really busy over the past few weeks. But hey, something's better than nothing, right! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


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